The Undead
by Nero1415
Summary: A standalone story in the Tokyo Ghoul setting. Different country means different rules. Jason is a person completely unrelated to the ghouls in Tokyo - he has his own problems, and a disturbing mid-night call doesn't make things easier.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The street outside the taxi blurred in a mess of reflections and facades.  
'Where do you wanna go, pal?', the cabman asked Jason. He shifted in place, looking at the reflection of the cabby in the rear-view mirror. 'Take me to Ollie's. It's a café, near downtown.', he said, returning his gaze to the window. The cabby murmured a response, and the car started off.

'Do you mind?', Jason asked, reaching into the pocket, about to light up a cigarette.  
'No, smoke away. Open the window, though.', the cabby responded.

Jason nodded, rolling down the window. The handle hardly moved, but he managed to get enough for the fresh air to flow. He lit up the cigarette and relaxed in his seat. He blankly stared at the ceiling, blowing streams of smoke at it. At some point, he caught himself exploring the slashed metallic texture, counting the shapes.

'Hey, cabby. What's your name?', Jason asked out of the blue.  
'Tom.', cabby responded. 'Yours?'  
'Jason. Nice to meet you.', Jason said, going quiet for a minute. 'Tell me, Tom, do you like your job?'  
'Why'd you ask?', Tom asked, then sighed.  
Jason noticed that. 'Something wrong?', he asked.  
Tom pointed at the car in front of them. 'Looks like a traffic jam. Fuck, we're stuck here for a while.'  
'All and all, good time to chat, innit?', Jason said, chuckling. 'I asked if you like your job, by the way, because I'm kinda curious.'  
'Ah, right, we're back on that subject, aren't we.', Tom grunted. Jason only now picked that Tom looked like someone late on the peak of heroin chic. 'Well, someone's gotta take y'all clods to the destination.'  
'That's not what I asked.', Jason said. 'I take it you don't like the job, then?'  
'Well… Mildly. Best way to put it.', Tom said.  
'Nice way, indeed. Why don't you change it, then? Surely you could put your efforts somewhere better.', Jason said.  
The car moved for a moment. Tom grumbled quietly at the other drivers but otherwise kept calm. 'Yeah, sure, I could. I want to. Kinda. Just gotta earn some cash to move on.'  
'So, the moment you'll earn your cash, you'll get a new job, new life? Is that the case?', Jason asks, his tone gets a bit sarcastic.  
'Something like that, yeah.', Tom said, an absent look on his face. 'Oh, fucking finally.'

Jason almost opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by the car, starting off once more. He silently looked in the window. The evening was approaching. The sky was palleted in scarlet-red and shades of blue. The crescent moon shyly looked out on the opposite end of the horizon. Jason gazed at the sight. His cigarette was long gone, hanging on the corner of his mouth.

The car stopped near the corner. Jason was bewildered for a moment, looking at Tom with confusion. He looked in the other window, realizing that they have arrived. A flashy neon sign reading 'Ollie's' alluringly sparkled in the dark. Two big windows revealed a cozy institution.

'We're here, chief. Fifty bucks from you.', Tom said. Jason nodded, passing the money to him, then got out of the car. He fixed the collar of his jacket, looking at the yellow car, moving away. Despair, he thought, that's what would describe you best, Tom. Best of luck.

Jason walked into the café. The barista turned to see who came in. His looks reminded Jason of a dried peach, just as wrinkled and round. He beckoned Jason to the counter, smiling. He could only comply, unable to resist such a charming hospitality, chuckling.

'You ain't changing, Paul. Good to see you.', Jason said, shaking hands with the barista.  
'You too, J. Black coffee, the usual?', Paul asked.  
'Yeah, I'll go with black.', Jason responded, nodding.

The TV above the corner of the counter hummed a commercial. Best toothpaste on the market, come and buy, only 5,98$. Jason cringed a little but otherwise was calm. Soon, Paul was back, leaving a cup of fresh coffee near Jason.

'Thanks.', Jason said. 'Could you tune it to the news? Or I will see this commercial in my _dream_.'  
Paul chuckled. 'Sure.', he said, changing the channel. Jason nodded, then switched his attention to the TV.

'And now to the international news. A group referring to themselves as Black Goat has taken responsibility for the recent attack on CCG in Japan.', the announcer said.

'What do you think they're trying to achieve?.', Paul asked, looking at the TV, then switching his gaze to Jason.  
'Do I look like a terrorist guidebook to you, eh?', Jason chuckled, sipping his coffee. 'Maybe they're trying to bring up the attention. Expect an attack on TV broadcast soon.'  
'…Now that you mention it, you do look like a walking, talking guide for terrorists, J.', Paul said, snickering.

Jason gave up, waving his hand at Paul. The barista rolled his eyes, then wandered off to serve another client. Jason returned his gaze to the TV, sipping his coffee when someone touched his shoulder. He turned around again, wondering who it might be. Adam, a man with a complexion of a burned match, smiled at him. He sat on the stool nearby, asking for a coffee, then looked at Jason.

'Nice to see you off work, pal! Came here for some grub, eh?', Adam asked, fixing his hair.  
'Hi, Adam. You know that ain't true.', Jason said.  
Adam gave him a smug grin. 'Yep, just teasing you.', he said.  
'You're a bitch. You know that, right?', Jason said, sipping the coffee.  
'And the best there is.', Adam said, pride in his voice. 'What do you think about those Black Goats?'  
Jason rubbed his chin. 'They believe in what they're trying to achieve. The leader, anyway. If they'll be smart and go V for Vendetta, I mean, capture the TV station, they _might_ just get it.', he said, finally.  
'I think Paul was right. You are a terrorist's manual on legs.', Adam said, giggling. 'I wonder why the police hadn't interested in you yet.'  
Jason chuckled. 'Look at me. I'm adorable.', he said, brushing his fingers against his 9 o'clock shadow.  
'You're as adorable as a cactus.', Adam said.  
Jason smirked. He finished the cup and left the money on the counter. 'Bye, Adam.', he said, leaving the café.

He breathed in the fresh, night air. A cigarette. A drag. Hot smoke leaves his lungs in a stream. Jason smiled. It's a beautiful night, he thought. He turned up the collar of his jacket. His house was in twenty minutes on foot. He always appreciated a good walk.

The nightlife in the city was springing. The people that Jason encountered on his way were excited, anxious. Everyone was anticipating a good night's entertainment, rightfully earned. Nightclubs were attracting racketing crowds, wild companies. Dope dealers and hookers were already in place, ready to serve everything the people need. Someone received a blowjob down in the alleyway.

Soon, Jason arrived at an apartment house. He pushed the door, stepping inside, routinely checked the mailbox. The number 15 on the metallic surface of the box was barely recognizable, worn from time. It was empty. Jason ran up on the third floor. The corridor, leading to his apartment, was weakly illuminated by a twinkling lamp. The mosaic floor missed some pieces. He approached the door with gilded metallic numbers, reading 15. A click of the lock. The door opened with a soft creak.

Jason stepped inside. As soon as he took off his shoes, he headed to the fridge. Opening it, he reached for a piece of meat. Jason stared at it for a moment, then planted it on a plate and put it in the microwave to thaw. While it was defrosting, he thoroughly washed his hands and took out the meat grinder. A ping. He smelled the aroma, his mouth watered. Jason accurately processed the piece through the grinder on the plate, then gently molded the forcemeat into small balls. He wished he could make the meat softer. The frying pan warmed up on the stove. The oil sprinkled when the meat touched it. The room filled with a smell of a cooked meal.

Soon, Jason's dinner was ready. He didn't think about it, just chewed and enjoyed the taste. The meatballs were tender and soft. He stared blankly at the dishes as he finished eating. It was delicious, more than he thought it'd be. Jason absentmindedly went to the bedroom and set the alarm clock. It was time for him to sleep.

The phone rang. Jason listened closely, then went to the sound's source. The LED display gleamed through the fabric of his jacket. He picked it up. The number was unknown. Hesitantly, Jason answered the call.

'Who's that?', Jason asked.  
'JC, I don't have much time.', the man on the phone said. He sounded nervous, frightened. 'I've got problems, big time. Come to my place ASA- FUCK!'  
Jason heard a thud, sounds of an intense fight in the background, screams. He dropped the call. The voice was familiar to him. He instantly dressed up, went out from the apartment and caught a cab. The night promised to be restless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The street felt abandoned. Not a single soul wandered under the moon. Jason hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He glared at a house. It looked worn from time. The paint peeled off, unveiling dry, red bricks underneath.

No cops, Jason thought. It could only mean that they were on their way. Jason went inside quickly. The foyer door creaked like nails on a chalkboard. He ran up the stairs, putting the mask on, careful not to touch anything. The light on the third floor didn't work. He turned on a flashlight. He moved closer to a door he was looking for, the last one on the right in the left corridor.

A sharp stench of iron was reeking from the apartment. An appealing aroma of torn flesh and ripped guts. Jason saw blood, trickling from the ceiling just near the entrance, merging into a small puddle on the floor. Holes were riddling the walls. Jason stepped past the puddle, walking to the living room. There was a corpse, on a sofa, torn in half. Its spinal cord broke and fell apart, small, bloody pieces of it spread across the room. A long, thick, muscular appendage splayed on the floor, twisted, covered in bites that ripped out pieces of flesh. Its other end was leading to what Jason presumed once was a pelvis. The face meshed into a gooey mass of bones and tissue.

'Savage.', Jason murmured, covering his breath. 'Whoever it was, he ate the bastard purposefully.'  
He stared at the corpse. 'Who did this to you, Jerry?', he asked, yet no one responded.

Sirens. From the apartment, their roar reminded a cycled sound of a broken tape recorder. 'Shit!', Jason exclaimed quietly. He looked around, searching for an exit route. The bathroom had a window. He heard muffled, rhythmic thuds from the stairway, barely audible. A slam of the frame moved away. A fall. A crunch in the shin during the landing. Jason grunted from pain, rubbing his leg. He saw a light in the window and quickly crawled underneath of the ledge, hiding from the unwanted eyes.

A glowing circle moved along the grass, like a spotlight, searching for an actor. Jason pressed himself into the wall, trying to be as small as possible.

'Hey, it's the third floor. Seems unlikely that someone's going to jump down from here.', Jason heard from the window. He prayed quietly for the cops to listen to that advice. He checked on the leg. It healed up, enough to be rentable again. Jason slowly moved along the wall towards the entrance of the house.

He saw no people around. Using this advantage, he moved quickly to the closest corner.

'Hey! You!', he heard somewhere behind. He hastened up to his step slightly, hiding behind the corner of the alleyway. The cop ran after him, shouting and dispatching his fellow brethren about someone suspicious.

Jason scuttered into a dead end of an alleyway. Only a locked industrial door with a clouded window and some boxes were in here. He grabbed his hair, thinking of a way out. At the sound of steps, he shuddered slightly. Not thinking, he approached the door and gently pressed on the lock. The steps were getting closer. The pistons complied, breaking with an audible click. The officer cursed at the rats, squeaking from somewhere. A small dent left near the door lock on the outer side. Jason quickly flew inside, closing the door as gently as possible.

Jason looked out in the window. The officer snooped around, waving his flashlight at anything suspicious. 'I've lost him.', he said on the radio, sighing. When the light passed the window, Jason ducked. He held his breath, pushing the door so it'd appear closed. When he saw the officer walking away, he exhaled, relieved. He wiped the door handle and the door off with a handkerchief, then snuck out of the alleyway, preferring not to wait while the guardian of the peace's buddies will arrive, too.

Standing on a sidewalk, under the yellow glimmer of a street lamp, Jason smoked. He approached a payphone, staring at the buttons. He waved his hand at it, walking away. The cigarette smoldered in the corner of his mouth.

He fixed the collar of his turtleneck. Gazing drowsily at the subway entrance, he slowly glided towards it. A night without sleep left him exhausted. He rubbed his eyes. The trains passed by as he sat on the bench, waiting for the Q. He was entranced, sedated by the tranquil hum of the underground. When his train finally arrived, he almost missed it, jumping in between of the closing doors.

He ogled at the window absentmindedly. His face was blank, flat. He felt too tired to think of anything. All that he could think of was to either grab a coffee or go to sleep, but be late at work. An automated voice announced his stop. Jason stood up and approached the doors, getting off the train. 'I should at least change.', he said, sighing.

Nothing had changed while he was away. The building he lived at still stood, the apartment was still empty. Jason opened the door, kicked off his boots and sat on the chair in the entrance hall. He stared at the closet in front of him. Sighing, he went to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. A loud, mechanical growl of grinders was irritatingly loud in the silence of the room. He looked at the clocks, hanging on the wall. Soon, he had to go to work.

Jason sighed, then approached the coffee machine, selected the espresso and went to the closet, changing clothes quickly. Grabbing a cup of espresso, he drank it along the way to the exit and left it on the shoe stand.

He quickly got to the subway station. A big crowd was standing near the platform, anxiously waiting for a train to arrive. A man in a coat tapped his foot, a businesswoman scowled, looking at her watches. Jason found it amusing to look at the anxious people in closed spaces. They were so easy to read, he thought. He scratched at his beard when his train arrived.

Soon, he was standing before the automatic doors to an enormous office building. He went inside.

'Morning, Mr. Carpenter!', the security guard said at the front desk said.  
'Good morning, Terry. Just how many times did I ask you to call me Jason?', Jason said, giving a fake chuckle.  
'I dunno. Didn't count.', Terry said.  
'Oh well, gotta get to work, you know.', Jason said, showing his ID.  
'Righto. See you later, Mr. Carpent- Jason.', Terry said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Jason nodded and went inside. On the elevator, 7th floor, then towards the cubicle. He sat behind his desk and tried to dive into the IT specialist routine. Data check, system maintenance, endless staring at the monitor.  
He felt distracted. The night's event held a dead man's grip over his attention. He still had a sight of Jerry's mutilated, ripped, gnawed body before his eyes. The officer that spotted him didn't do any better.

Suddenly, someone touched him on the shoulder. Jason yelped, startled. He rapidly turned around to face whoever did it.

'Jason, hey.', said a drill-instructor looking man.  
'Phew.', Jason exhaled, relieved. 'Matt. Stop spooking me like that. Please. You _know_ I hate it.'  
'I wanted to tell you that the cops are looking for you. Asked for you to come to the front desk.', Matt said.

Jason gulped. All his world crashed before him right now, just from one, stupid mistake. Were they after him? Did they know? Panic. A sense of dread and oncoming doom slowly crept along Jason's spine. Scenarios of him, being locked away in a specified penitentiary institution, tortured and experimented on, pierced his mind like incandescent needles.

'Jason?', Matt said.  
'Y-yeah, sure. I'll be there right away.', Jason said, his voice was shaking slightly.  
'Are you alright, man?', Matt asked.  
'What? Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Insomnia, need to get some coffee.', Jason said, getting up from the chair.

He walked past Matt, trying to be as small as possible. If they knew, there'd be a SWAT team here already, he thought. They wouldn't risk it. He breathed slowly, preparing himself for a long talk.


End file.
